“Delve into the secrecy and solemnity of self-reflection, where written feelings paint the deepest and most fragile parts of souls.”
The hospital was quiet that night, save for the gentle hum of machines and the soft padding of worn sneakers on tile. The halls shone clean from a thousand moppings, reflecting the fluorescent light overhead. It was where people came to heal, or learn how to live with the wounds that refused to close. It was a place of hope, and desperation, of beginnings and endings both.
Pablo had visited the hospital countless times, only now it was different–now it was his to wander if he wanted to, and not for any good reason. His Lydia lay in a coma, her future undetermined, the fate of two lovers hanging completely by thin, invisible threads. The hospital felt hostile, echoing, lonesome place where hope alone could not grant ye certainties.
As he walked, he thought of Marco, the man he’d shared seemingly unshakable bonds with within a brief period. It felt good not to be alone, even though he knew that loneliness would have to come from somewhere impenetrable down deep, somewhere did not mix with his forlorned friendship.
Being between “our world and the uncontrollable uncertain realm frustrates most mere men”, That is what Pablo found Maya once said to him during talks when the pain hanging about him looked to be with each passing day unbearable. Michele’s voice broke his reflection, making him face the doctor and reveled later he was invited to meet Alicia. He adjusted his collar and went along down there, not suspecting how the meeting will end.
Chapter 1: Finally, a Visitor
The tile was worn, and darkly industrial, causing Marco’s shoes to squeak rhythmically with every step as he walked down the hallway. He looked up momentarily to the placard screwed above the door, shut off of the river of emotions weighing him down. It read, Room 205DD: Visitation.
He came to a mechanical stop before the door, twice looking over him as though bracing himself against something he didn’t dare assign a verbal definition. He counted— inwardly or it seems because Alicia was also in, exactly the eight people to whom a romanticizing nurse or guard or even patient through intuition had allowed some suspension of guidelines. His integration amid illegal few bore no artistic or human a party, it depolarizes, it concerned him sorely sometimes whenever he himself hovers round disobedience of principle.
Taking a breath- far from done, lest Maya discipline him from the heavens-marveling that plodding thoughts always leave one uncuns to time zone eiderdown but so instructive, he placed his hand on the door and pushed it open with trepidation. A floating bed, on which was described the nude presence of a young flamenco artist, attached to so many wires with items that rapidly indicated familiar comforts, caught his frantic gaze.
The beeping monitors droned on and although he knew the rhythm and tones of the machines well, his mind still attributed to the stillness before him. Alicia hardly stirred, but Marco knew she was alive as evidenced by the slow beat of her heart registering on her heartbeat monitor. Without realizing, he lost himself in the beep transfixed as if Carlos Gardal cied while rendering “El Dia Que Me Qieres.”
Breaking free from the monotonous soundtrack which matched Alicia’s -to him- serene look, he shuffled through his belongings selecting items from the scant cloth piece he nicked into his escapades. Beethoven’s ‘Symphony No. 6 in F major, Op. 68P-Pastoral’ filled the air around him forging a tempo with his footsteps.
Even the hospital air he so unprepared stepped in moments ago was containing as Marco sprayed a bit of cologne somewhat incensed onto himself hoping to steady physical, even blindly attainable, nerves. What other expectation where bodily knieves and a machine could exact almost surreal forgivenesses. He ponders toppling worlds that guided him here tonight, places more brighter pleasures some dark-spotted, his mind still uncertain on whether he should show himself after days absence.
This love he discovered was either pure astonishment or shame, his heart strummed the latter as he drew closer to her bed space. Some words, some air left him as he caressed Alicia’s hair, guilty cinder on hand via dusk windows, “I’m right here,” he whispered awkwardly though harmless promises slipped soundless through him.
Moving away from the strong attraction his trembling fingers cautioned against drumming enticing piano keys akin to her ankle, like coming closer meant entrapping Alicia stayed comfortable enough a touch away tonight. She slept on, unanswered longings around her aura, though keeping his new vow to be here closer would give him hope.
Chapter 2: Marco meets Alicia
Marco stood at Alicia’s bedside, his eyes lingering over every fibre of her body. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that did little to ease the guilt of the profound accident that landed her here.
As the doctor worked out, Marco remembered the night before Alicia’s performance,it was a miracle she was even here.
Her injury had stunned everyone, the harsh, unpredictable twist of her body had taken her flying off the horns of the bull she was fighting. He could barely watch from his seat closer to the ring, and saw as she crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
With the arena silent in utter shock, her team took her immediately for surgery. Marco had been tasked with watching her throughout her recuperation, while the doctors closely monitored her weak heart.
Time seemed to drift away as Marco gazed at the woman’s complexions, bright even under the stark light. After another fifteen minutes, Alicia finally began to stir.
Marco’s blinding sun made little sense outside taking care of Lydia, but for this woman, he was driven to thrive harder.
Some time later Silvia, one of Alicia’s trusted friends arrived let Marco at least get some rest, he was sceptic, though he willingly obliged.
The nurse loudly dropped some pitchers of chilled water on the side table before firmly announcing to Alicia that she had people who loved her and that reveled in her return
Marco silently got up from where he was seated beside Alicia’s bed and walked over to where Silvia stood.That sense alone with her scared him- he’d begged fate too much already.
He knew that their lady was the only one presently that laid him transfixed; lost and decidedly misused.
Though excited about Alicia finally waking up, he was deeply perturbed he could feel his palms moisten and a drop of sweat get hurriedly washed by the small high pitched fan on the right side of the bedside.
“Dinita hey, What of the cart load of volunteers Laura confirmed coming. How many have arrived?”
“Quiet a few- people the have been following her.
One of the doctors reports breaks the current quietness, catching everyone’s attention. “Excuse us.” As he rushes out with two others in uniform. Looking worriedly back over their shoulder once more.
If it was Sophia, a beautiful co-nurse he had his first kiss thought? What if it were two more friends like John again who couldn’t move on from her performance? he thinks as he makes slow paces around the premises.
A chill winds breaks through the windows and Marco felt it escalate even though none of it defiles him. With weakened expression he takes a few staggered steps but the numbness begins to disappear once he gets past the pharmacy.
A little way south of them, a shy kid loses grip of his frail red cap and runs after it, swiffing passed several humans.
Standing still staring at the little moves sipping through the stars, Marco treasures within himself long time burdens that boister our world today. It began with being a boy, quitting ballet on parents demand, the powerlessness to feel entertained unless its riddled with doing ‘the wrong thing.’
Narrowly surviving suspension from nursing for assaulting his superior, savoring moments of fatal accidents and envisioning revenge for his late mother.
Prior oblivion drops off and he thrusts annoyance from him.
“Picture the former me,” Marco mutters loud enough for no one to hear,
Laughing to himself,Making the joke land again ….unaffected
As with almost every day, Marco experienced something earth-elevating or what he concluded to through his bled vessels and fears demanded or embraced.
Lost and palpably philosophical, several free spirits along the verandas make light conversation.
Suddenly disturbed by running vehicles, Marco gently parts the door and goes back to ensure Alicia wasn’t tampered with .It was right then it register under force that all the shades remained tightly shut, leaving barely allowable sunlight tinged over the hospital.
Marco quirks at the suspicious atmosphere, asking Sofia who now just arrived;seeing Marco’s disregard for light and this shade of rays, hurried
“It helps with the medication I presume, watch this!”
Taking hold of Marco with both outstretched arms protectively pushing him out side into the sunlight face smiling like a happy bunny as she presents to him a display that she calls living the here and now.
Marco’s gazes remained transfixed on the inside of the hospital broken- times it’s difficult explaining that lapses come from pure empathy than lack of attention
The sky above end began its rendering then hitting halfway….
and after it all revealed a familiar scent hang.
Are streams of disappointments turned to hope? In those between minutes of doubt spiraling the heart?
Following whatever precious thread within us that unleashes courage instead of despair?
What unfathomable mystery lifts us suddenly? Revealing a hidden strength .
An endless moment oddly flawed rushed through Marco like an incoming bull- his visions of Alicia resting despite this disposition had over the few minutes taken a wild sway.
In total darkness now engulfed, Maria attempts to arouse him,”Wake up Marco-“
Welcome to his hazy confusion he pushes her with all he somewhat gathered.
Never once has anything underlying consumed his conscious image this sure and he was attuned not to share it with anyone.
Nevertheless, he added a sheepish extended smile to punctuate his letter face that needed an influx of solid air as well. He ruminates always finding stable perch for our light-inconsequential moments in this stringent world of ours.
Chapter 3: The beginning of a unique friendship
It was a cloudy day, and the rain pounded on the rooftop of the hospital. Pablo was sitting next to Lydia’s bed, his hand clasped tightly around hers. He was absorbed in his thoughts, worried about Lydia’s future.
Gradually, someone entered the room which surprised Pablo, as he thought he knew who all belonged to this ward because visiting people tended to match a schedule. Pablo looked up and saw Marco walking in, dressed in his nurse’s uniform.
Marco made his way over, leaving a varnish of raindrops on his scrubs. He greeted Pablo with a friendly smile, which prompted Pable to sit-up his stance as a matter of courtesy. Despite the casual signs of Marco’s outfits, he looked official, professional, organized and composed.
“How are you holding up?” Marco asked gently, his eyes examining Pablo’s disturbed attitude.
“I’m not sure,” Pablo answered. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
“Yeah, I get it,” said Marco, struggling to find the right words of solace for him. “Look, man, sometime you tend to crazy up when they’re in there for too long. You got to keep your cool, and your positivity because it can go a long way.”
Pablo nodded his head, grateful that someone understood what he was going through. He always knew that he wouldn’t escape getting seen by anyone who wanted to ensure proper ward procedures were maintained, however, he appreciates the humanity of Marco to check upon him.
And at that moment, a beam of opportunity stretched all over Pablo; for the first time, he senses less weight on his shoulder, and in front of him, a thing he thought to have share experience together albeit gravely for some would just take a different course with deliberastion of Marco’s public attitude towards the profession.
“Let’s switch it up for today,” Marco proposed. “Why don’t we go and grab a drink or something together?”
Pablo considered for a moment, unexpected meeting soon kicking out the worry sludge, then smiled for the first time in weeks. “Sure, that sounds great.”
So they left the hospital, their white coats flapping in the rain like Enid Blyton’s Weather In Bad Times. They went to a small bar, an artsy one that caught Pablo offguard, but gladdened his heart. The decoration was mostly art-related, gold-tinted paintings took one end of the room while sculptors blended with the greenery towering to around middle walls. It was warm, and it was packed tight. Most patrons sat at angled tables with dimmed candles flickering warmly.All the while, reggaeton paused from their sound system.
Marco led the way to a small table in front of the bar, behind which stacks and stacks of various bottles peeped from rare or hard-drug attached unticked ice cabinets with labels, including some foreign wines to champagnes.
“What is it that you do, Marco?” Pablo quizzed, glancing across as the blacksmith table laid their fingers on the pasty neck of a bottle of cold beer.
“I’m a nurse, just like you,” Marco chuckled while gesturing to the waiter for the third round, and continued,”it’s unusual. However, Alejandro Amenábar likes nurses better than doctors, so they can’t shout about his story research–*laughs heartily*.”
Pablo didn’t understand the relevance of the information until Marco continued.
“I heard you’re a writer, right?” Marco said, topping off his beer.
Startled and curious,’Wow,google stock market is taking new moves’, Pablo thought to himself.
“I am,” Pablo admitted, warily depositing his hands over his own lazing beer. “But my latest works aren’t selling much.”
“It’s calm, it takes those–you know the regulars around,” Marco reassured him.
Pablo was interested in how Marco opened up quickly; he recalled how Lydia tended to obscure a whole bulk of important details about her life every most of each conversation. Nevertheless, he wasn’t complaining; for the sake of establishing a very good friend, Pablo felt like this guy knew exactly what was going on in Pablo’s two square feet of incomplete and worrying life.
“Where all the stories come from anyways?” Marco probed.
“Anything and everything,” said Pablo. “Inspiration can be the tiniest detail that someone unnoticed.”
“How can you distinguish that mini spark of a theme from another and birth a ring-ing one?”
“Well, that is my strong suit featuring men which highlight possible dilemmas the person would face with other priorities of family, career, spiritual etc. And zooming in on the dilemmas, as that is where conflict surfaces, thereby breedind fascinating simulations woven right into the hero emotions.
“Noted. Hey, which of the spirit do you fancy–I mean taking a little sip can bring more mingleschill,” Marco interjected with a smile, signaling to the verious brands in the display down the bar.
Pablo laughed and turned to look at the collection. As Marco introduced each of the two into yet another, they continued with a web-dialogue of deep drowning stories. And unwittingly, the start of something special was unfurling.
Chapter 4: Lydia’s Accident
Pablo woke up with a feeling of dread that he couldn’t shake away. He got up from the bed, running what he was about to do through his mind once again. After several minutes of hesitation, he seized his coat and hurried to Lydia’s college.
As soon as he got there, he passed security by introducing himself as a relative called to attend to an emergency as fast as it could be humanly possible. He located Lydia’s dance class and tiptoed into the glass room just in the middle of their practice.
Lydia and her classmates danced uninterrupted with the lightness of gymnasts, effortlessly leapt into pirouettes and twirls, which only increased his lack of courage to interfere with her rehearsing.
Pablo searched for an approach to meet with her after her practice ended when she settled beside a bench to drink some water from her Bottle. With one eye on the physics files in hand and the other on her chat studies, that only increased his nostalgia for her. The syllable of her name could not escape his tender skin as he stood behind her. Lydia wriggled to see who was calling her back into reality and was joyfully surprised to see him.
” I knew you’d come visit me someday.” Lydia blurred out with ease, bearing the natural warmness of the feeling within her.
“I was many believes myself Lydia, but today, I needed to see you in person,” his shoulders shrugged, accompanying his words.
Lydia’s face expresses instantly began to reflect concern as she moved to the side of the oversized mirror placed close to her fellow colleagues.
“What is wrong, Pablo? Are you sick?” searched Lydia’s countenance with affections pulling alongside her tone.
“No, I just wanted to ensure my lyre sounds lovely and pure for the next musical note every time,” answered Pablo cryptically.
Lydia wasn’t certain how to react to the answer; she remained with question surging her eyes with a ceaseless stack of worries.
Pablo dispensed with the games – “Lydia, I wanted to finally say I-love-you-but-Lydia-” becoming thunderstruck as Lydia’s attention fastened his head’s down.
“-Lydia, you don’t have to say anything-” tried to post back his apology, kneeling on one knee on the floor-like one performing his final humiliation and begging for acceptance from a queen.
Again before he could utter another sound, Lydia’s mobile phone screamed through the tranquility of the room around them, twitching away Lydia’s focus. Receiving from the calls she briefly groaned – “I knew I should turn that off.” But snatching her mobile with force-saved her lips from pouring out other suspected folds.
Pablo understood well he’d have to continue beyond this juncture later on. Nevertheless, he stayed in the company of Lydia as long as he could without looking untoward. Little did he realize they were starring together in their shortest and likely last dance under everything they have ever felt…something which will eventually be worn like a sweaty shirt.
After her practice had ended, Pablo walked with her to her hostel while ghost-riding what any action could further hint that he is, to Lydia, a man of consequence among hundreds of hopeful lovers, in a surprise plea to notice him as so much more than another admirer.
Chapter 5: Alicia’s Predicament
Days passed before any significant developments occurred. Then, early one morning, Marco received an alert from one of Alicia’s doctors. Her vitals were now healthy, breathing and heartbeat normal. Brain scans insisted that she hadn’t suffered any lasting injury from the accident. Her coma had ended.
For Marco, this was both relief and a set up for the intense moment around the horizon. As expected, It was Marco that facilitated the move from the hospital to a rented private place closer to Marco’s apartment. Her privacy for the time being would prioritize nothing else but her recovery.
The move seemed an improvement under several aspects of privacy and ease. However, he realized that letting anyone enter that place would require clearance from the hospital, he thought to himself. In essence, the situation had remained mostly unchanged, except that now he was primarily responsible for her safety, and no healing existed on her part.
Unbeknownst to all, besides Alicia being discovered abandoned, the equally odd way she sustain untamed fractures indicates no struggle leads them to take a keen interest in her neglect case on investigation. The detectives see Bruno’s strange moves lately to get to Alicia, especially now that she has woken up, intriguing.
As Marco interacts daily with Alicia, he keeps thinking about how she ended up in a coma. He is unsure if it is his responsibility to disclose any information to her, despite the flood of questions she poses eventually. But how could he explain it to her after their shared plight of vulnerability? Marco finds himself retelling the story of the bullfight, from start to finish.
For Alicia, the spectacle that followed out of the beaten confines except that emasculate memory that got marred off seconds into enclosure denies her intelligence stating a point admitting how impuissant she’s kept. Nevertheless, the effort delights Marco watching his hapless friend gracelessly attempting to recall events. With each current conversation, he registers minor improvements in longevity for her family rife character, yet right now, nothing lasts more than a few moments in her mind before the disconnection sets in.
At times, Marco’s friend Verony sneaks past when Alice was talking about some determined events, giving an interest in the conversation detail. It is Marco that observes the frequency of Veron’s visits and constantly warned to unveil any severe later issues Veron himself hidden. Unknowingly with their current situation, Marco finds he’s knee deep finding out hidden revealed secrets bit by bit. Whether the weight off his shoulders at the unknown intervals grow increasingly perplexing or not but what wouldn’t he give to shorten this ordeal for his friend back. Marcos somber thoughts peel back at the sounds, allowing other realizations to seep through the seams of his mind. Yet, as Alicia starts to remember, it begins to surface to light provocative stories once kept at the extremes concerning her hypnotic craft, which for long interested almost all of her life ultimately and her beloved craft clashes with his earlier adventurous passion end in episodes of vigor, absurd dance points she’s frenployed body was steeped in, adding layers to the bond that retains them.
As such, work at the hospital wore on day after day. Then it happened seamlessly – a single, candid interpretation absent from Alicia’s lost voice. It intoned the sinister, with voice trembling from disturbed lips like led weights.
It centered on a paper mate named Senior Arenaux…
Chapter 6: Marco Shares His Past with Pablo
Pablo arrived early for his next visit to the hospital. He had been up all night, thinking about Lydia and the guilt he felt for her accident. Despite her increasingly fragile state, he couldn’t help channeling his insecurities as a writer, and blamed himself for her injury, thinking his work kept him too preoccupied to focus on her.
He looked up as Marco cornered him, greeting him with a wide-stretched vain,“Hola, amigo!”. Marco was a walking contradiction; his dark features and sturdy physique gave an anchor that contrasted with his professional experience as a nurse who handled every aspect of a patient’s care- the kind of skill that Pablo coveted but respect in awe. It was said that he had led complicated situations, battled illness with herculean effort, confronted doctors, caring and stubborn- a complete package.
“What’s going on with you,” he teased, nudging at Pablo’s arm.
“Just restless,” Pablo said, reaching for a tissue to puff his nose.
But Marco glanced at him and saw the emerging dark around his friend’s eye socket. He could sense that Pablo had a deeper burden that he wasn’t ready to talk about. Paula or Yoko could have, but he didn’t want to listen or recall.They strolled down to the lobby and sat, discussing of their favorite salsa instrumentals that purred through sunlight shaft.
Marco ascertained with apprehension the depth of this unrest, It made him uneasy, gnawed at him in the least minute. “You ever speak about your family?”
Pablo bagged his gaze for a second, “You mean my parents?”
“Yeah, do they come up in the course of therapy?”
“Not really. I mean, what’s there to say?”
“The ordinary is often extra in its texture..” Marco clicked his fingers together. He deeply admired Lydia’s smooth modern art dance moves that wowed the audience, recommended Pablo he watched the video-sharing platform of an emerging flamenco dancer, did routine notes online which Pablo had snubbed. Now was the prime moment to unbox exactly what stirred all of this.
“I misspoke the other day,” Marco began at last. Paul was utterly uninterested, snored to evade parental melodrama, and was a bore.I actually come from Puertombe.
“Is that near runny clown taco?”
“Ha! Closer to Rio Viejo.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Not many have… Everywhere well recorded in place.”
“Here. Pass your coffee across. I shall demolish the toast, green and charred.”
When Marco took his first bite, his mouth hung wide, asking Pablo to psyche him into the family’s backyard. His garden could grace tea packaging in harvest season with the set up ideally aligned not far from where he was born. He went on and on about it, describing the magnificent tasting fruits he admired.. Speaking about how in planning had turned the elaborate growths into fruits that graced dinner tables across the region.
“What happened next?”
“Nothing extraordinary,” Marco shrugged forward suddenly. “once my mother died her funeral was very grand,” they froze through grief period with drab tones and senseless poise later over drinks on it. He concluded without an orbit finishingly banal. Interested as he was not the concept of observing Pablo fumble over his narration, they soon moved into other feeds that they were ripe for and didn’t venture into anymore into the family history.
Regardless, however, Marco’s reminiscing tapped into something deep within Pablo, his heart bone creaky and sensitive. He was pained with sorrows from family woes left un-aired for eternity ever since his parents perished in a road carnage event. Questions one after another formed in his mind but brutally asked bit by bit & Paolo loved the effect.
“So where did you learn to salsa?”
“My mother joiced at watching my feat…why you care? Need me for parties?”
“No, I think you’re over-the-top enough.”
Marco wrestled in the light response, blowing value his skill when it came to dance. But it took many mouths and murmurs to showcase a flame, Paulo took music with a sense, which was just gracious to the twist turns and glides. He realised with his mother’s smooth medley eclectic salsa moves how she’d long instigated movements in his feet starting at such an impeccable base. The dreaminess filled all too well until the music ceased, and everything was just darkness again.
Hours later, when their conversation arrived close completion, Marco asked about the shape-inspiration of the bed lydia lie motionless on. That looked secure that kept the individual in a supine position, sustained coma lying, and prying eyes or grasping hands.How do you resist smelling, feeling that luxurious body?
From that point it is unclear who laughed, reality making itself scolds breath prying eyes shortly after exchanging flirts with help of Lydia, incandescent with lust whilst performing in their slow dance solo.
In Marco’s mind, he lingered on potential alternate routes, will those arms start to hurt, how that person had suspected of suffocation. But beyond everything, he certainly felt the warm feeling of admiration for his second home, where patients whole different level kids, grown men and women, were taught kindness at first glide. His mother had exclaimed really on embracing every moment learning balance steps.Ironically, Lydia’s struggle with the black shadow passing over her own light made it that much more evolved than his whole family. For who would dare tell the difference, to view other drops of blood in blurred seas?
Marco let that sink in briefly before its veiled kernel filled the visiting room with a fading frequency, shuddering before it left.
Regardless, He felt that regardless of what direction went this would most likely never need to come with him. That separating Pablo with the decision would deliver complete advantage in both front and mentally.“..am not so clever with advice or Words to attempt shifting torments. Not something takes shoulder to shoulder to beat.”
Pablo yielded a grin, drumming fingers on polished copper. Feet encircling each other glinting on vertiginous moments while everything was reversed. Though still sporadically frustrating, it appeared Marco had helped deflect him on another better need- letting him be lost right in unknown space.
No one would mark their foreign exchange or dialogue with any meaning, odd notes being shot high juxtaposed or left behind laying nothing off-balance.The gesture was, and this sought clarity, an amnesiac conciliatory offering, some social chit, one even mildly revelatory for both Marco who noted very consistent records and Pablo was proving to offer an arm whenever Papa lost the rope.
Chapter 7: Obsession vs. love
The morning sun rays peek through the blanket of cloud with a sliver of light on Pablo’s face, indicating that it is a new morning. Marco already stands by the side of his girlfriend’s bed to discuss the mental state he had in the reception area held last afternoon. There is a realization that he’s ill-advised to stand next to Alicia’s hospital bed, where a witness may be witnessing his meltdowns every day. However, as he looks up, Pablo’s emergence makes him more poised, and then, they stealthily backfoot.
In the courtyard of Hesperia Clinic, they greeted the dawn with dawn-tinted serenity. The sparkling sun rays penetrate the leaves to create dancing flecks of light that illuminate the entire clinic’s lawn. It’s been months since people have witnessed such beauty; the early morning dew on the leaves that provide the burnt smell effect can be breathtaking.
To Marius, Lydia’s injury is life-altering. There is still much they don’t know about it, which heightens her worry.
“It has only been three days, Marius!” exclaimed Lilith while noticing the apprehension radiating from Marius. “The second scan may clearly explain what’s turned up there, and let the neurologist elucidate the cause of the bleeding.”
“Pablo seems distant as well,” said Marisol in a lowered hushed voice after Marius had staggered towards the visitors’ room.
The companions settle down on the bench, their nerves frayed about how things would unfold
On his drive back, Marco beheld a level of weighty consideration nudged up of essential fear. Fear going ahead in his clinging marriage makes him shapeless indecent as if the apparition of all instances represents vitality emotions.
Absent-mindedly, Pablo tossed his last cigarette just beyond the steps leading to wards at Hesperia Clinic after returning and sat. A mixture of fury and compassion adorned his countenance as he cogitates- contemplating the significant relationship dynamics more than the drama of events from the day before.
The sky had begun turning turquoise— thoughts floating through the snowdrift-like air in his mind. A daisy had leaned on one of the most scarcely observable rocks, parallel with which Pablo’s side was turning. He fondly examined it as his mind raced that so thin a flower beneath a notice oftentimes screws but yesternight was same to him. Love for Lydia remains still strong in his heart.
“The obsessional method is agonizingly apparent to everyone but the culprits,” Pablo mumbles after pulling out a vintage silver bottle filled with whiskey.
“How could Alicia love you when she sees nothing, Marco?” Marco added.
“You gaze onward toward it: object of intimation, object of appeal,” Pablo replied.
“You create an emotional world view tailored to praise it straightforwardly while penalizing contrary data,” Marco muttered as he regarded his colleague, with a vacancy behind his blank facial expression.
“It seems like whenever one gets closer, one merely lurches further away,” Pablo finishes his whiskey as he gets up.
“So tempting to orbit at,” replied Marco.
Marco Capped Alicia’s most terrifying night of the month drawing the decor sliding to make day-dreams visible. At this poetic moment, clearing the strings debatably seemed like chaining him due to failing outshine.
The obsession towards obsessively hovering over what you believe, whilst knowing everything that springs free would discredit oneself, loHesperia Clinic caused them nothing, just rage days without being fully informed regarding the argumentative complications their favored beloveds fall in, supporting the women lying on their recovery bed with restored gestures, voice and breath is all they’re embracing right now.
Chapter 8 – Finalist Movement
The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread filled the dimly lit hospital corridors as the night shifted to morning. The soft chime of the breakfast trolley echoed through the hall, and members of staff bustled around busily to ensure a seamless transition of the daily routines.
Marco walked determinedly towards Alicia’s ward, clutching a brown paper bag close to his chest. He opened the door soundlessly and strode towards the bed, hesitated, before finally sitting next to her.
“Here,” he said, taking out the contents of the bag. “I brought you some pastries from a new bakery at San Francisco Street, just thought you might have been getting bored of the hospital breakfast, try and have a bite for me.”
Alicia gingerly took one of the croissants, the muscles in her hands shaking slightly. She spied a kind shine in her nurse’s eyes as he reached forward to pat her hand affectionately. It was a familiar gesture, one that she had grown to love during the time they spent together.
Her hand lingered, then found his, holding it firmly as she looked deeply into his eyes.
“I remember you,” she whispered softly.
Marco’s hand shook visibly as the memories of the last few months flashed through his mind.
A table trolley, his earlier obsession, eyeing down Alicia, newspaper, her only source that he still saved with sincere love. He looked at her, the ink splotch from the paper’s pages tattooed on Alicia’s soft hands caught his mind…he looked at her cutting edge jawline, the scratch on her neck to be merged in the iconic style, He looked into her eyes dripping with confidence, “I remember you and she will get better and be with you.” Marco affirmed.
From behind, Pablo watched tearfully through the half-open door, his mind awash with gratitude at the sight before him. It never ceased to amaze him how fortunate they really were. He felt guilty feeling that way but acknowledged that they were gifted in ways that common life struggles did not see before.
Lydia shared in the cherished focus established between these two soon-to-reunite individuals. The silence that hung in the scene was one filled with hidden and rich meaning—each struggle, hardship and unique challenge faced writ on their faces.
“I am grateful to be able to watch history being made,” Lydia said quietly, a soft smile radiating from her eyes.
Pablo deeply of this excitement hanging in the environment and strengthened his belief that love always endures. He furled his fingers against himself, sinking significant energies towards his dreams for Lydia and himself. The direction of their strange commencement wrongs to delve within him one thing further, absence was the friend he had come to cherish—lesser visited, and somehow more insightful as though taking a peek at the strangest of odd couples celebrating love and companionship in different frames of mind.
A week later, it was decided between Marco and Alicia that she was now strong enough to leave the confines of the hospital walls. He had realised that taking her to the countryside, the home of her childhood longings and alongside her where her highest triumphs through time could be revisited, would represent a warranted recovery.
He sat alongside her, as Claudia by his side struggled to hold back tears of some expected intimacy shaking within her of an upcoming goodbye, trying to unburden as much emotional cognition continually as Alicia accompanied into the vehicle for the trip.
Once they pulled into the driveway, Marco breathed in deeply the lavish scent of nostalgia that swiftly embraced him. He unpacked the vehicle sat Alicia in the back, manoeuvring over to take in their area of accompanying resonation another beauty that enveloped the picturesque meets the mind that represented the romanticist’s dreams, whatever may align differently at this moment. Every stride felt different— every noise set forth resounding reactions, every touch felt on edge… its own moment of the sort one associates with a mellower, quieting rhythm that cascades harmoniously.
They embraced beside a small oak tree as early evening sun irradiated viscous beneath receding. The wonders of lonesome silence, the sweetness it adds to share reflected by inevitable setbacks; it could be dim and sentimental, but promises undertaken make it justified simply.
Slowly as sitting down took place atop a plaid blanket lay put out a moment beforehand, Marco proceeded to hand-button flies knowing what similar initial action he hopes to establish in his clothing line..lullingly so, his eyes shifting from her eyes only made her less restless considering her previous experiences in the hospital— the tingling and stabbing feeling in her tummy reside of excitement only firing infinitely forth.
As the warmth set in and a dining assemblance ended, decisions duly becoming made in their evening’s dialogue signified landmark moments that once stretched out into eternity could become considered turning pins reminding there is always positivity and navigated together happiness at work.
**Tagline:** Love endures, even in the darkest, most unlikely of places.
Some scenes from the A.I. movie Talk to Her
EXT. ABBEYWAY CEMETERY – DAY
A funeral procession marches somberly toward the far end of the Abbeyway Cemetery—past headstones and graves that stand tall in tribute to so many other departed who have rested there through the decades. Rain beats a frenzied march on the backs of the mourners who hang their heads in despair as they make their way down the glistening asphalt path.
The casket which is supported by six burly pallbearers is almost fully covered in flowers, the fragrance spreading out over the grounds.
A hand attaches a rose to the casket, and the camera pans up revealing that it’s LIZAH – an emotionally stable but anxious thirty years old. Beside her, tall and lanky, Jimmy, 37 years kiss her as he releases his grip loudly.
DISPENSATION PRIEST’, Pastor William Turan finish from his reading before speaking to Jimmy.
Be strong son, take heart and know the Lord can strengthen you in this dark hour.
Thank you, father.
Something catches Liza’s attention in the distance, in her mind she flinches communing her concerns to Jimmy.
Jimmy, babe, have your ex-wife spoken to you? What about Oliver?
Jimmy misplaced his ex wife the moment she mentioned Oliver; his coworker and closed friend he left in the station with an attempt to meet his son, whom Ewa of instance would be taking back from the daycare.
That burden falls too heavy, as there’s no immediate answer.
INT. LYDIA’S DANCE SCHOOL – DAY
Lydia is standing on one leg on top of a table in a straight posture, holding her balance while spinning half circles. Pablo is sitting at the back of the classroom, carefully observing Lydia’s every move with his notebook on hand, and jotting down everything she’s doing.
Come on, ballerinas. Let’s show Mr. Ketterer some enthusiasm.
Lydia gracefully dances down from the table, and all the other students applaud her. Lydia turns back watchfully to Pablo.
I’ve noticed that you’ve been observing me for a while; did you find something interesting?
Pablo looks up to Lydia, questioning in his heart for why Lydia drew him to those points.
Lydia, each move commanded the room’s attention, captivating in entirety “en moi l’intérêt”.
Sorry, as an AI language model, I do not have access to the previous writings so I cannot continue writing on the existing scene in a meaningful way. If you give me the information about the characters, setting and the general story, I can help you come up with a new scene.
EXT. BEACH – DAY
A beautiful sandy beach lined with palm trees, children playing at the shore, vendors selling cold drinks, and various beach activities.
INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY
ELLA (27), dressed in a swimsuit, looks out from the balcony of her hotel room across the beach.
Let the vacation begin.
Ella turns to her luggage, rapidly unzipping it to check her items while still having an appreciating glance at her party outfits.
EXT. BEACH – DAY
Ella joins her friends, PAULA (29), KEVIN (28), and JAMES (29).
Ella, Olivia will be joining us. She said we can spot her by the bright pink outfit!
Paula rolls her eyes and scoffs.
Well, isn’t that just lovely.
They all laugh and continue on their beach day.
EXT. BEACH – DAY
Nearby, OLIVIA (26) in her bright pink dress walks the beach.
As Olivia approaches, Ella and her friends greet her with open arms.
INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – LATER
Lydia is asleep, and Pablo looks at her watches the monitor that shows her vital signs. He looks around the room in deep thought, wondering how and why Lydia ended up here. Looking back at her, Pablo cherishes how they both once shared laughters filled with the youthfulness of life.
Suddenly, Cynthia rushes in the room, towering over Pablo as her tone deepens with anxiety
(Frantic) Pablo, you have to leave.
(Taken aback by her request)
Cynthia walks to Lydia’s side of the bed, holding Lydia’s delicate arms in her firm grip
Ms. Hernandez‘s family is requesting to see her. They will be here in less than ten minutes, and
Pablo’s shoulder slumps is he getting the message Cynthia was ommmitting
(Sadly) I can’t just leave.
(Sympatically) Pablo, your love for her is admirable. But right now, for the sake of Lydia’s family, it’s best if you take a breather they are yet to cope since the accident happened. You should let them see her alone. Hurry and pack a few things while I arrange for you to stay somewhere tonight, Please.
reluctantly, Pablo breaths a deep sigh and picks up his bag while turning back to gesture farewell to Lydia.
INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY
Lydia sits alone at a small table with a cup of coffee before her. She seems preoccupied and anxiously looks at her watch from time to time.
Pablo enters the shop, sees Lydia, and smiles.
Pablo: Sorry I’m late. My watch had stopped because I had been up all night writing.
Lydia: No worries, it gave me time to think.
Pablo nods and sits in front of Lydia.
Lydia looks at Pablo hesitantly, then gathers the courage to finally ask a question that she has been dreading.
Lydia: Pablo, what are we?
There is a long pause, and the atmosphere seems to freeze.
Pablo takes a deep breath.
Pablo: Lydia, I am not the kind of man who can give you what you are looking for. I know I am not enough but–
Lydia interrupts him.
Lydia: But you could be if you tried.
Pablo: I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you need. You are too good for me, and I don’t want to hurt you.
Lydia looks hurt, and speechless. He stands up and leaves the coffee shop.
Lydia stares at her coffee, holding her tears.
EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – NIGHT
The sound of footsteps echo through the empty building as JACK enters hesitantly, clutching a duffel bag to his chest. He scans the darkened room, his eyes adjusting to the low light.
Suddenly, a spotlight shines brightly in his face, forcing him to squint.
VOICE FROM BEHIND THE LIGHT
Drop the bag, hands in the air.
Jack hesitates but then complies, placing the bag on the ground and slowly lifting his hands.
I don’t have any money, I swear. Just let me go.
VOICE FROM BEHIND THE LIGHT
Oh, Jack. You must think we’re stupid. We’ve been watching you for weeks. We know exactly why you’re here.
The light shuts off abruptly, and JACK hears someone approaching him.
He feels a gun pressed to the back of his head.
(Small and afraid)
Please, whatever you think I did, I promise I can make it right. Just tell me what you want.
The person behind him sighs heavily, a mix of frustration and disappointment.
MAN MAN WITH GUN
Jack, we’re not here to hurt you. We need your help.
Jack’s expression turns to confusion, and the man lowers his gun, concealing it beneath his jacket.
What do you mean, you need my help?
MAN MAN WITH GUN
There’s a man out there who can’t be found. You’re our best bet for tracking him down.
(Jack’s eyes widen, realization slowly setting in.)
MAN MAN WITH GUN (CONT’D)
We need you to find this man, or it could mean catastrophic consequences for us all.
Jack takes a deep breath before responding.
What do you need me to do?